Night and the Perseid Shower
by Entwife Incognito
Summary: The night, the darkness of the new moon, a sky full of shooting stars & the CBI rooftop. Jane and Lisbon are putty in the hands of of such forces! A one-shot, no plot way to make the hiatus. Warning! This story has strong sexual content. If you don't like that type of material, do not read this! Disclaimer: I don't own anything about The Mentalist.


Breezes blowing into Sacramento from the coast that morning were moist and salty. It unsettled Patrick Jane and made him think of the Malibu house sitting right on the beach. How every day could smell different depending what was going on in the ocean, how much the waves stirred it up, whether the sun was out cooking everything or the clouds pressing down on the sea. Those things would determine what the wind would do that day. Blow moist and drop rain or run parallel to the coast. Or maybe something hot would blow from land and fight impotently to dry out the ocean. At his house in Malibu, he could watch all these things and knew them without thinking. Days like this saddened him because he was alone, stripped of his wife and little girl, victims of an insane killer who was now after him and anyone else he might manage to love and care for.

He wanted to drink because he could think of nothing else to dull the pain, burning him inside like foaming acid, eating away his will to live. The burden of his losses, his guilt and his solitude dragged him down this day as he sat in his long-stay motel room and drank a cup of tea in his underwear at the table by the window. The drawn drapes shut out the morning light. On such days he understood why teenagers cut themselves, why men drank themselves to ruin and why women wasted away over miscarried children.

But he didn't drink that way. He didn't smoke. He didn't cut. Maybe he could waste away. He sat in the chair, his back bent over the table as his shoulders shook and he wept. He had pretended to give up in Las Vegas, trying to draw out Red John, who had murdered his precious wife and child, sliced them to ribbons. His pretending had turned out to be just short of reality anyway. It would be so easy to do the real job. The only thing that had saved him was that he had a real place to go back to. A place where the people would have to take him back, no matter how angry they were because they had made themselves his family, no matter how constantly he fought against it.

It appalled him that reciprocating in any open way could bring the wrath of Red John down on them. Because Red John wanted Patrick Jane in his harem of minions in the worst way, and his method was to destroy any person whom Jane would seek to get close to. Isolate him from love, from his old life, from starting a new life. And the person most at risk in this terrible game was Teresa Lisbon, the leader of the CBI team he consulted for and the only woman alive he would love with all his heart until his dying day. But she couldn't know. He couldn't tell her, draw her to himself, without putting her in Red John's crosshairs. He might as well be dead, his life had become a living death.

That was how Jane thought on dark days like this. Days when he wept in anguish, a sound like jackals in the distance, waiting for him to become too weak to fight and they could move in and finish him off. Holding his pounding head in both hands, he tried to take hold of himself, lowering a hand to pour the rest of the tea down his throat, hoping it would somehow connect him with his humanity.

There was only one thing that offered him life and that was to go to work. To see Lisbon and be with her team. To be with Lisbon, even with his love in hiding. He managed to shower, left his stubble to grow another day, put on his three-piece suit, downed another cup of tea and drove his Citroen to the CBI agency building.

Lisbon came in that morning, refreshed and confident as usual. Jane wasn't laid out on the bullpen couch, but he had many haunts to nap the time away between crime scenes, witnesses, suspects and thinking whatever thoughts Patrick Jane thought. Whatever he did with his time, it was good for her team because it closed cases at a very high rate. Cho, Rigsby and Van Pelt were at their desks.

"Anyone seen Jane this morning?"

Van Pelt answered, "He's in the break room, fixing tea." She motioned for Lisbon to come closer. "Boss. He doesn't look so good this morning."

"Okay, Grace. Thanks. I'll go check on him." Before entering the room, she took a deep breath and let it out slowly. On bad days, Jane could look quite shocking.

"Hi, Lisbon."

His clothing looked fine, but his face pale and puffy, stubble grown out too long. It was always difficult to tell if his hair was a mess or not because the full head of golden curls hid any grooming fiasco. His eyes were shadowed with lack of sleep, and a certain squint that held the long exhaustion of unending pain, a defense against the horrors of his life. His lips were a little dry and cracked. Lisbon's eyes immediately pricked with tears and she had to look away to regain control.

"Hey, Jane," she said to the lower cabinet by the sink, took a quiet breath and faced him. "You doing okay?"

His answer was a wan, tight-lipped smile and a small shrug. "Just having a cuppa. Can I fix you one?"

She said yes to give him something to do other than stew in his misery. She had a pretty good understanding of that by now, how deep and how real it was. "How about some of that spicy stuff?"

"With the chai spice?"

"Yeah. I'll take a cup of that, thanks." She sat down as he prepared her tea. "We're going to follow up on that Dearden case today, talk to some witnesses, take another look at the crime scene. You in?"

"Yeah, sure." He set her tea in front of her and took his seat again, shoulders a little slumped, staring at his cup and saucer, silent.

Lisbon didn't try to draw him out but sat quietly with him. When she had finished, she put her cup in the sink and stopping next to Jane, stood sideways and put a hand on his shoulder to give it a squeeze. "Ten minutes, okay?"

"Yeah." Lisbon understood. She always understood. The love he couldn't express paralyzed him. She just patted his shoulder and left.

Riding back from the field, the radio announced there would be a meteor shower late that night, the Perseid, to expect a most prolific and tempestuous light show. Jane brightened at this. The moon was new and the darkness would enhance visibility even in the city.

Lisbon smiled, her heart lifting for him. "I know where someone is staying tonight!"

Jane returned her smile and it even lit his eyes. "You're right! I'll be in the attic and on the roof. I can't think of a better place to watch." He knew he was taking a big chance, with himself and with her, but the rooftop especially was so secluded, perhaps it could offer them a few hours of real peace and a chance to share something fine in their friendship.

"Have you ever seen the Perseid shower, Lisbon?"

"No, I can't say I have. I've seen a shooting star or two."

"There will be hundreds tonight and without the moon, we might as well be in a planetarium, visibility will be so perfect. I'll be up there. Why don't you come and watch for a while?"

Jane's enthusiasm was a bit contagious. "Sounds like a great way to relax, Jane. I'll bring sandwiches and fixings and we'll watch the light show. It'll be fun. Oh! And I have some wine, too. Sound good?"

He looked at her, something ultimately unreadable, but warm in his eyes. "Sounds great."

Lisbon returned at dusk with a tote bag of goodies for their supper, and they dug right in. Jane had moved the long, thin cushion from his bed to the rooftop floor and placed a second one beside it. These joined the chair he used at his makeshift desk and the overturned burn bucket as other seating choices. To start with, the burn bucket served as a small table. Lisbon sat cross-legged on a "mattress."

"Hey, this is pretty comfortable for being so thin."

"Yeah, camping gear is pretty high tech these days."

Sometime after their second glass of wine, the meteor shower started. Lisbon saw the first shooting star.

"Look!"

"I see it! You have to make a wish on the first shooting star, Lisbon."

"You saw it, too, so you have to make a wish with me."

They made their wishes, not knowing each was for the happiness of the other.

The meteors showed no sign of letting up, even after a couple hours. Lisbon stretched out on the mattress. She could hear Jane shifting around uncomfortably in his chair. It was a long time to sit.

"Come down here, Jane. Take the other mattress. You'll be more comfortable, and I won't bite," she joked.

Jane decided to take her up on the offer. Neither could tell how long they watched the peaceful light show, shifting shoulder and hip to cushion whatever needed it the most at any given time. Finally, they lay shoulder to shoulder.

The dome of the night sky was infinite and deep, the blackest bitumen, scattered with stars and fuzzy patches of light in a myriad of colors, muted and tricking the eye by distance. In front of all streaked the meteor shower, casting the gravel of the universe earthward to burn in the oxygen-rich atmosphere. It was as if the sky was falling apart, the pieces to land at their feet. The watchers on the rooftop oohed and ahhed and pointed as if it were a Fourth of July fireworks show. The effortlessness of nature at its work, mindless of anything so small as Man, made it magnificent.

The two watchers shed years of burden, layers of self-protection, tapping into the comfort of childhood when time meant nothing, stretching endlessly, thoughtlessly. They cracked stupid jokes and laughed until their sides hurt and they couldn't catch their breath. It grew too late and they lay shoulder to shoulder just short of sleep, every muscle in their bodies soft in relaxation, totally at ease in one another's company.

Before their pleasure could be reminded of its time limits, Lisbon looked at Jane's shadowed profile, so handsome. Jane felt her eyes on him and turned to look at her.

"Jane . . . "

He raised his arm to invite her to come close, which she did, staying flat on her back but moving her head to his chest as his arm wrapped loosely to her hip. He kissed her on the side of the forehead and she rolled to her side to drape her arm across him, feeling the warmth and solid comfort of his body as she snugged hers against it.

"I've wanted to hold you in my arms for so long, Lisbon."

She just nodded against him. He turned to his side to face her, stroking her hair, her arm, her flank, her hip. He touched her like one might gentle a frightened animal, but instead of calming, Lisbon began to tremble. Jane tucked her head under his chin and held her tighter, thinking perhaps she needed warming in the night air. He couldn't help saying, "I love you." And repeating, in case she hadn't heard or it hadn't reached her, "I love you."

Taking his hand in hers and resting them both over his heart, she lifted her face to kiss his cheek, tenderly holding it with her lips for barely a moment and then whispered into his ear, "I love you, too."

He nuzzled her cheek with his nose. "What did you wish tonight?

"Maybe it won't come true if I tell."

"No. I think a wish shared makes it live."

How whimsical a thought, for Patrick Jane! If she could believe in wishes, she could believe in his version of them. "I wished that your pain would go away and that you would find happiness."

"You used your wish on me?"

"You need it more than I do. What did you wish?"

"I wished that you find love and family, children. A full life."

"So, you used your wish for me."

"Who better? No one deserves happiness more than you, Lisbon."

"My happiness is with you. Nowhere else."

Her trembling had become quaking now. He wrapped his arms more tightly around her and brushed her back vigorously as if trying to warm her.

"I'm not cold. I just don't know what to do with my love." He looked in her eyes, softly petting the length of her body, taking it more slowly and allowing his hand to feel her contours, silent but listening to her. "I'm afraid to touch you, Jane. I shouldn't."

His eyes glittered in the dark. "Right now, it's all I can think about. I want to kiss you. But I'm afraid I'll never stop."

"I wouldn't want you to stop kissing me. Ever."

A fire kicked on with a roar inside Jane's chest and demanded oxygen. He parted his lips to stoke the furnace in his body. "Oh, Lisbon. How can I be without you one minute more?"

He wrapped her tightly in his arms, crooking his chin over her shoulder because their bodies couldn't meld into the one being he needed in order to feel close enough. He was burning, erect, gasping and helpless against the passion he allowed himself to feel in her presence for the first time. His laugh was low and breathy. "If this goes on much longer, it will be over for me before we could get our clothes off."

Lisbon felt the power, the essence of the primitive night take hold of her. Driven by her core and not by her brain, not by her heart, she didn't know how to say what she wanted, how to ask him. When they had never even kissed. And she didn't want to kiss. Yet. She wanted to see him. Naked. Standing with desire for her. Spilling over because of what she was doing to him. Call his male nature before she joined her female nature with it. Where were these thoughts coming from, so insistent and wild? How could she deny the feminine that longed for him? She couldn't. It would drive her mad tonight. Break her.

"I want to see you." It burst out of her and hung in the night.

Jane pulled away to look at her face. She looked almost scared, shocked at what had come out of her mouth. But she was searching his eyes for signs that he would give her what she craved. He moved to kiss her, but she backed up enough to prevent the contact. "No. I want to see you. Let me see you, Jane. Just you. Naked in front of me."

"Teresa. What you want me to give—"

"Let me take it. I'll show you. Help me."

Watching her, this drive clearly welling from deep within her, it wasn't just that he couldn't refuse. He desired what she desired. Even if he didn't yet fully understand what was reaching to him.

He let her go, laying his arms at his sides, and watched Lisbon hover over him, blotting out the stars behind her head and replacing two of them with the light in her eyes, the luxuriant dark melding with her breeze-tossed tresses. Her hair was the night, her eyes the stars. She kneeled at his side and began to unbutton his vest and then his shirt and cuffs. She opened everything slowly together, looking at his chest and upper body as she exposed it to the night air. It was not as cold as he thought it would be, the furnace inside him kicking up and demanding more air as his chest heaved, funneling it in.

She didn't touch him. Instead she gazed at his beautiful skin, thinking how much she loved pink on a man. Tiny dark nipples stood in contrast. Supporting his head with her hand, she helped him to raise enough for her to remove his upper clothing as one piece. Then she loosened his belt, tucked her fingers under his waistband and slowly drew his zipper down, raising the material away from his body so as not to stimulate him directly. He gasped as his belly danced when she tucked her fingers in to take his pants down.

"Easy. Easy. I'm not going to do anything."

"What you're doing now is going to send me over." His voice was high pitched and did signal an impending loss of control. He was trembling all over, trying to hold on while succumbing to the most effective sexual tease he'd ever experienced. But somehow he didn't feel that Lisbon's actions had anything to do with teasing. She had something in mind and he wanted to experience the reveal!

Raising his hips so that she could remove the clothing from his lower body, he arched his back in near-ecstasy as he was exposed to her eyes and to the night. She looked him in the eyes, hers wide and bright, and her lips parted to her heaving breath. Was she as close as he was? When she had removed every stitch, he lay still to wait for what would happen next. Still she didn't touch him. Mesmerized by Lisbon's obvious arousal at seeing him completely naked and at her mercy, his hands itched to wrap his cock and finish himself. Almost in slow motion, she shook her head at him.

Instead she drew the inverted burn bucket near and offered her hands to help him stand. Seating him on the bucket, she set her hands on his shoulders and brushed them down his arms. As she bent over him, she kissed the sides of his face, down his neck, across his shoulders. Everything that had cried out to be cherished for years inside Patrick Jane was being satisfied under Lisbon's hands and lips.

She kissed the muscles of his arms and inside his elbows, breathing heat into his body through the living skin. She matched her petite hands against his wide palms and long straight fingers, sighing out a long, "Ohhhhhhhhh," as she admired and handled them. She painted his chest with her open hands and brushed his nipples back and forth until they stood straight up and made his cock dance as she handled them, squeaking as his breath caught in pleasure. His instinct was to grab himself, soothe himself with his own hand, but she gently restrained his arms and kissed his lips, diverting all his attention to the desire she expressed there.

She brushed the muscles of his abdomen and the tender skin of his belly, then over the hip bones and down his thighs, savoring the change in texture at the soft hair. She even traveled down his hard shins and soothed the tops of his feet. But she came to kiss him again, opening her mouth to let him savor every soft tender surface. He braced his hands on the top edge of the bucket to lean into her and bring everything he could taste within reach of his own mouth and tongue. Finally he broke away to breathe.

"Lisbon. Teresa. I don't know how I'm holding on. I want to make love to you."

"You will. Just wait. Enjoy the night and the air and my touch. We'll be ready for love in no time. You have no idea how ready I am for you."

"I want to touch you and find out."

"Not yet. Very soon."

She knelt between his legs and pushed them apart. She pushed gently on his chest to make him lean back and he balanced by keeping his hands on the edge of his seat. It forced his cock up, rigid and rising like a totem from his body, his balls already climbing and ready to pulse.

"You're very beautifully made here, Patrick."

She touched him, using her hands and fingers only to feel, to brush, to soothe or heighten. She wanted to know his desire for her, not wrap, squeeze or pump it into him just now. That could wait. Just to touch, to stroke with the flat of her open fingers.

He watched her work him to what seemed enormous length and girth in the open air, trembling, arching, calling out as she touched him like a goddess performing an ancient ritual. When he looked helplessly into her eyes, she spoke.

"I want to see everything about this. How it works, what I can do to it, what brings it to life. I want to watch you spray like the shooting stars in the sky."

They both knew he was moments away. Carefully laying the length of her open hand to the front surface of his quivering erection, she slid her hand up and down, so softly and barely wrapping her fingers over the tip, letting the heel of her palm travel the front of his balls.

"Go ahead. Don't wait," she whispered and he arched his hips. She took her hand away and watched him shoot great jets into the air, liquid shooting stars, groaning in pleasure with each pulse. As he began to quiet, she put a soothing hand on him, this time petting the length of him to his balls several times.

Jane panted and laughed at the same time, throwing his head back to release the laughter all the way from the bottom of his chest through his throat and sounding from his open mouth. Lisbon smiled to see him abandon himself to the pleasure of the moment. Then she laughed with him.

"You're a goddess, Lisbon. What was that?"

The slant of her head and the crinkle at the corners of her eyes told him the sweet arrow of his compliment had pierced her.

"Only the night and the Perseid shower." She pulled his hands to get him off the bucket. "You'd better get some circulation back in that bottom of yours. You're going to need it in a little while."

"Oh?"

"Let's finish the wine."

She looked at the back of him as he walked to the mattress and bent to get the glasses and bottle, the fleshy globes rolled enticingly under the curve of his back, forcing her lips to part at her watering mouth. His naked ass was exponentially sexier than even when clothed, even embossed by the rim of the burn bucket. And his clothed ass was universally appreciated everywhere.

He poured carefully as he held the glasses in one hand and set the empty bottle down, giving her another precious view of his parted cheeks. She reveled in how gracefully he moved, naked and with no thought of embarrassment. He turned to bring her wine, offering a simple toast, "To us!" He was semi-erect and picture-perfect.

"To us," she echoed.

They wasted no time draining their glasses. Teresa had said she was ready to make love with him. He wanted her. Looking at her now, he grew harder.

Teresa watched him grow and stand upright. She wanted him, desperately. In just a few minutes. "I want something of you for myself first." Her eyes glittered with lust.

He looked at her quizzically. How had he missed knowing this wild, lascivious woman? Where had she hidden all these years? He would never have been able to resist her.

"Lie down on the mattress and turn over, Patrick. I want to kiss your ass." Her lips curved into a smile and a corner of her mouth twitched in amusement.

He smiled broadly. "Oh. I have been waiting years for this!" he quipped, and did as she asked, propping himself on his elbows and lifting his lower legs to swing in excitement and simple mirth.

Lisbon stood in his view and began to remove her clothing. Soon Jane's legs stilled as his fascination and desire grew with the removal of each article. His mouth watered and he felt his male flesh respond to her petite breasts, full in proportion to her size, round and succulent. Her hips were an inviting cushion, the best of her curvaceous figure. Her legs were slender and sleek, the thighs framing the delta of her sex like a work of art. And she was coming towards him. He rolled his begging cock between his belly and the mattress.

She bent to his face and kissed him deeply, then lay on her stomach between his parted legs. Kissing the rounds of his flesh, sucking, nipping, rolling and massaging them, she even licked the creases where they met his legs. His entire pelvic carriage was electrified and humming with desire by the time she offered him a hand up yet again and led him to sit on the bucket.

"I'm starting to really like this old burn bucket, Lisbon." She put her own hands on the edge this time and leaned in to kiss him, allowing his hands free rein at her breasts and any other part of her body he could reach. Then she straddled him so that he could sample the wet softness that waited for him between her legs. His fingers waded into her moisture, breath quickening as he explored her. She responded by arching her hips forward so that he could slip his fingers into her. He finger fucked her with abandon, his breathing harsh and rhythmic as if his own rigid flesh was settled deep within the glove of her body.

She pulled away and began to slowly lower herself onto him, taking her time, making sure his head was wet with her moisture before pressing him in. He longed to be engulfed in her wet fire.

He watched himself disappear into her body, engulfed by the pillowy heat that would undo him. He said, as if scorched, "Ah! Ah! Oh!" and then shivered violently and began gasping for breath.

She started to move against him, circling, spiraling the head of his penis just inside her vagina. Finally, he stopped moving to receive her, laying back with a long sigh of surrender as she worked him slow, almost suckling him with her pussy, soft and total, like hot liquid under pressure, filling every surface and ridge and hollow as she moved. She wanted him to feel everything.

"You're soft as a pillow in there, Lisbon!"

The sticky sound of her whispered in the dark as she worked him. "Ohhhh. You like that? Me, too."

"You feel like heaven. It's exquisite. I don't want to come. I want to feel you do this to me forever." He dropped his head back and took in heaving gulps of air. He wanted desperately to cry but it would be a distraction from the sensation she created around his cock and he didn't want to miss a second of how she could touch him like that from inside. He listened to the soft squishing noises she made with her moisture, working him in the silence of the night, spiraling up and down. She leaned back to draw him tight against the top of her vagina, using it to caress him as if it were her mouth, her tongue.

He could tell she was close to exploding, and as long as she had been waiting, he knew she would be able to come more than once and he wanted to be there for every time. He started jabbing her, insistent that he be given some control and she followed his lead, quickening the pace to match his and changing the movement of her hips to enclose him completely and give herself the most pleasure. He found her clitoris and swooped a crooked finger against it over and over. Soon she cried out, pressing her hands on his chest and arching her back to drive him in as her pulsing walls writhed around him. He held on, taking the sensuous onslaught to his most sensitive flesh. When she had calmed, he said, "Get up and come with me."

Leading her back to the mattresses, he settled her on her back, lowering himself to hover over her. "Open your legs, Teresa. Let me in."

She complied immediately, looking at him with a smile on her face and desire in her eyes. "Anytime, Pa—"

He entered her hard and swift, silencing her. His thrusts were insistent, demanding that she pick up his rhythm and ride him hard. She met his demands and more, spreading her legs as wide as she could to feel the full pressure on her entire saddle, clitoris sharing in the thrust of his pelvis against her. When she was at the edge, Jane stopped thrusting to press deep and hold inside her, feeling her up with his blood-swollen finger, pushing and prowling, but never pulling away. When she broke it was with a loud cry, repeated with her gasping breath as she clenched around them both, sending him after her.

He didn't even try to hold back when his orgasm breeched, singing from him in tight, high frequency waves. His helpless tears wet the side of Lisbon's face and he breathed their release into her ear, a susurration of very deep sighs. Lisbon thrilled at the abandoned pleasure in his voice. He swept her into his arms and rolled them over to lay her on his chest for their sweet recovery together.

It was near dawn when they gathered their things and made reluctant goodbyes just inside the attic door to the agency offices and reality. They embraced as lovers do, murmuring their love and their sadness at parting, but for these lovers the bitterness ran deeper for they did not know when they could be like this together again. A very dangerous world with very dangerous work set them apart from most other lovers. They risked their lives to have the night and the Perseid meteor showers. It could not become a pattern until their work was done and Red John no longer a threat.

Once at their homes, there would only be time for showers and a change of clothing, maybe a hasty breakfast or a cup of something hot before returning to the building to start the workday under a pretense of normalcy, if they could manage it.

Her body still remembered him, how he had been inside her, how he had looked, completely naked and shooting the seed from his body under the shooting stars, his body thrilling for her. How he had allowed her wild nature to stand unmistakably before him to be loved and cherished, consummated in a final wild act. She loved him.

Every memory of her quickened him, a twinge in his groin that the pleasure of joining her body could be so life altering, a simple carnal intimacy, the biology of profound and pervasive attachment. The biology of love bonded them, sealed their commitment to one another, somehow pointing to the horizon at the end of time. It was fanciful thinking to speak into the world, but as basic and true as blood in the unbound reaches of the heart.


End file.
